


Once Too Many

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, destiel implied for those who seek it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8321917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Dean was always alone during one of those nights. Ever since he had returned from Hell, it had happened again and again; the need to drown everything out simply too strong to fight the allure of the remedy his father had used so liberally; and he would wake up the next morning with a headache, but at least he’d made it to sunrise.





	

Dean was always alone during one _of those_ nights. Ever since he had returned from Hell, it had happened again and again; the need to drown everything out simply too strong to fight the allure of the remedy his father had used so liberally; and he would wake up the next morning with a headache, but at least he’d made it to sunrise.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, but really, what was he supposed to do? Take time off the job and heal? As if that was possible. It would never stop.

He always woke up alone somewhere, hung over and shivering.

Sam was well aware that he didn't want anyone, least of all his little brother, to see him like this; and Cas... well, he made sure he wasn't in his bedroom when he did this, where the angel now and then appeared.

Currently he was drinking Vodka in a corner of the library; it was where he, as always, would wake up tomorrow morning, not remembering falling asleep, shivering, the bottle empty, broken, in his hands.

This time, however, he was wrong.

This time, he’d just managed to drink himself into a somewhat comfortable stupor when he woke up just enough to hear a soft, yet panicked exclamation; to feel fingers in his hair; to gentle hands removing the bottle; and finally, to sink back into oblivion much later when he was strangely more comfortable than he should be on the floor and someone was singing to him.

_Hey Jude, don’t make it bad..._

He woke up without a headache in his own bed. Huh. He hadn’t expected that.

He would have suspected Cas, but there were barriers they didn’t cross, not even when they were practically – brothers.

Dean had just sat up (and realized that he was even in his boxers, what the Hell) when the door opened and Mum peeked in. As soon as she realized he was awake, she was at his side.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

“Morning, Mum” he said with all the dignity he could muster while he was busy fitting the pieces together (Hey Jude, oh God, Mum had found him like that – )

“Are you alright?” she repeated softly.

He nodded, wondering if she’d perhaps be angry at him, as Sam used to be in the beginning.

Cas had never talked to him about his alcohol consumption. He probably figured it was none of his business.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The resulting silence was even more awkward than when she had first returned.

Then, gently, carefully, she asked, "Does - does this happen often?"

He shrugged. Really, the dark nights had all but stopped happening, these days. He just got lost in his head sometimes, that was all.

“Now –“

“ _And then, and there’s nothing to it_ ” she interrupted him; there was a weary, concerned look in her eyes that Dean didn’t know how to meet.

“That’s what your father would tell me. After he came back from the war, he had – “

“I don’t have PTSD, Mum, don’t worry” he said quickly. He remembered how Sammy had hovered around him after he’d come back from Hell. He really didn’t want Mum to worry about him. Yeah, he had his moments, but he was fine.

“You don’t have to have the same problems” she said simply, “it matters whether or not you are coping with your life in the same way.”

“Mum, I promise – “

“ _Dean_.”

Something about that tone made him remember dropping a glass when he was – what, three? and watching his pregnant mother pick it up because she wouldn’t allow him to help in case he cut himself.

“You were lying on the floor” she continued. “You were –“ she swallowed.

“Cas helped me.”

At least Sammy hadn’t seen him in that state, then.

“He wouldn’t tell me anything else, though – how often he has done it before.”

“He doesn’t, usually – “

Dean had run right into her trap.

“So you just lie around drunk until you wake up enough to go to bed?”

“Something like that. Look, Mom, it’s the life, I can still do – “

“You’re having beer to every meal too” she said, and now she only sounded sad.

“I – “ What was he supposed to say to that? It was true. He just did.

“Dean, I – “ She took a deep breath. “John used to call it his “bad nights” – when he would –“

“I understand.”

“And he never let me help. Or you, for that matter.”

“Me?” he asked, frowning. He couldn’t remember stumbling over his father drinking.

Before Mom’s death.

“You were so desperate to comfort him” she explained softly. “He wouldn’t have it, though. And all I’m asking is that you talk to someone instead of drinking in a corner. Like me or Sam or Cas.”

What could it possibly solve to talk about it? This – this shame that just settled over him from time to time? It wouldn’t do any good. But at the same time, it couldn’t hurt to reassure his mother that all was well.

He opened his mouth, but she only shook her head.

“I’d rather not be lied to, if I could.”

He closed his mouth again. He had no idea how she’d known.

“Please, Dean, don’t forget I raised you for four years.”

And thirty-three had passed since then. Sometimes he wondered who Mom had imagined they would grow up to be.

It still held true that they saved people, and always did their best; but he couldn’t help but suspect that he mustn’t look like much, compared to Sam.

“I just want you to be happy” his mother finally broke the silence.

“I know” he said. He’d always known that.

“Stay in bed today, alright? Get some rest”.

She pressed a gently kiss against his forehead and left the room.

He let himself sink down on his pillow and sighed. He really hadn’t thought about Mom when he’d decided to grab the whiskey and find a corner. In his defence though, he had no idea what had made her get up and look for him in the middle of the night. Maybe some weird kind of motherly instinct.

He finally got up in the afternoon, after he’d surprisingly managed to take a nap, and stumbled onto Cas. Had the angel just been standing in front of his room?

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas – hey, what are you doing here?”

Cas immediately took a step back.

“Not here in the bunker” Dean corrected himself, “Just here in the hallway.”

Cas relaxed. He really was acting more and more human these days.

“Mary asked me to make sure you were resting.”

“I don’t think she meant you had to stand in front of my room” Dean pointed out.

Cas shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to.”

He didn’t read too much into it, but was relieved when Cas fell into step beside him as he started to walk towards the kitchen.

Then, a thought made him stop.

It was pretty clear what Mom was concerned about – that he was an alcoholic, or on the edge of becoming one.

Dean was very aware that he had passed that edge quite some time ago. If he was being honest with himself. And that didn’t happen very often.

At least he could claim it was a hunter tradition – Dad and Bobby should have been proof enough of that.

But, for an alcoholic (albeit a functioning one) he could very easily spend several days without drinking during hunts. Was it the adrenaline, or...

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“When you healed me – last night, I mean, I didn’t have a headache waking up – did you do something else too?”

Cas frowned. “I assure you Dean, I would never try to influence – “

“No, that’s not what I meant. Did you heal me completely, or – “

“Oh” he replied, understanding dawning on his face. “Your mother asked me the same. I assured her I always made sure you were completely healthy when you woke up.”

“Always?”

Suddenly, Cas looked uncomfortable.

They were still standing somewhere between their hallway and the kitchen.

“It was easy letting you feel the effects of the alcohol without causing you damage” the angel said finally.

“And you told Mom that?”

He nodded. “Shouldn’t I have? I’m sorry, I thought since Sam was aware – “

“Sam knows too?”

“I should have told you as well” Cas admitted. “But Sam thought that – “

He looked away.

_Sam thought I would have used that to get drunk way more often. Hell, I probably would have._

“Hey, don’t worry about” he said, squeezing Cas’ shoulder. “The way I see it, you did me a favour.” He paused for a moment, allowing himself to feel the reassuring warmth of his friend through the trench coat he still wore.

“Perhaps I should cut back on the alcohol a little, though” he added, “just to see if I can.”

“I’m sure you can” Cas breathed, smiling at him.

Later that evening, Dean only had water for dinner.

And if his whole family including Cas wore proud smiles on their faces, no one had to know but him.


End file.
